


Day 1- Fiona

by danceinstylinson



Series: Day by Day [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 17:16:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1436407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceinstylinson/pseuds/danceinstylinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first part of the 'Day by Day' series which covers the day to day life of Mickey and Ian as Mickey tries to take care of Ian with the help of Mandy, the Gallaghers, and various other characters. </p><p>Day 1: The first day after Fiona dropped the 'bipolar' bomb on him. Mickey trying to navigate this new, unfamiliar ground, all while coming to terms with the fact that he might need help from others, Fiona especially.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 1- Fiona

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a new little series I've started. It's going to be a collection of short one shots and drabbles that follow the day to day life of Mickey as he tries to take care of Ian. All the days are going to take place in the gap of time between the finale and summer aka where they'll be by season five. Some parts might be super short while others will be longer, so yeah. I hope you guys enjoy. xx

Day 1- Fiona 

It was a day by day sort of life they were living now. It was all they could do, take things as they came, run with the hand they were dealt for that day. Everything came in small increments nowadays, baby steps. Ian was still in bed, it was day three now, three days since this all began, and Mickey was doing his best, still trying to figure this all out. 

“Who was that on the phone?” Mickey asked as he trudged into the kitchen, going straight for the coffee. He hadn’t slept for more than a half hour last night. Couldn’t sleep. 

“Fiona,” Mandy said, grabbing a mug from the sink and rinsing it out for Mickey. “Said she’s coming over in a bit to check up on him.” 

Mickey took a sip of the coffee, it was pretty shit, nothing like the stuff at the Gallagher’s, but it was better than nothing. “What’s there to check? Nothing’s changed. We said we’d call if something changed.” 

Mandy placed a hand on his arm, like she had the pervious day when Fiona had been throwing out words at him, words he couldn’t wrap his head around. She tilted her head to the side, giving him a sad look. “Mick, come on, she’s his sister.” 

“And she wants to put him in some nut house,” Mickey spat, the mug shaking in his fist sending coffee sloshing around and spilling down to the grimy kitchen floor. 

“She’s just worried about him. She just wants what’s best—“ 

“Him being here is what’s best!” Mickey shouted, his voice trembling as tears came to his eyes. “Not some hospital where they don’t give a shit about him.” 

“Alright, Mick, alright,” Mandy said softly, turning her head down and walking out of the kitchen. A few moments later he heard a door close and then the shower started running. The rest of the house was quiet, so quiet. Svetlana and the baby were probably still sleeping in Terry’s room, the fuck knows where Kennyatta was, he hoped he stayed gone because Mickey wasn’t blind. He noticed the new shiner Mandy was sporting, and it made his blood fucking boil. If he could he’d fucking slit the guy’s throat. But as much as it killed him to see Mandy suffering, he had to trust her to handle this one on her own for now. He was being stretched thin with everything else going on, he couldn’t add murder to the list. 

Mickey downed the rest of the nasty coffee and then poured a glass of water and buttered a slice of toast before he padded back down the hall to his room. 

He sucked in a breath before nudging the door open with his knee. Ian was turned away from him, his body crumpled under the blankets, just as he had been all yesterday and the day before. He knew Ian was awake though, he could tell, the way his limbs were all locked together, the way he was completely curled in on himself. He was looser in sleep, he’d know since all he had done the previous night was watch over Ian, watch him go from tense to calm as he slipped in and out of consciousness. 

“Ian?” he said. His voice seemed so loud in the silent house. Ian made no movement. Didn’t even mumble for Mickey to leave. Maybe that was progress though, Mickey thought. “Ian, I know you don’t want to, but you have to eat something, okay?” 

Mickey walked towards the bed, setting the water down onto his own night stand, before climbing onto the bed and approaching Ian’s huddled form with the plate of toast. 

“It’s just toast and butter, I didn’t think you’d really feel like eating much. Probably don’t have much of an appetite but you have to eat something. Can’t let you starve.” Mickey tried to crack a smile, tried to keep his voice light, tried to keep from completely breaking down. It was hard enough seeing Ian like this, but he knew if he started cracking it would only make things worse. He had to be strong for Ian. “Come on,” Mickey said, pulling away from Ian’s shoulder and patting Ian’s hip, motioning for him to sit up too. “Come on, please,” Mickey tried again. “Just a few bites, okay? A few sips of water.” 

“Not…hungry,” Ian said slowly, burrowing himself further into the covers. His voice was faint and rough from disuse, but Mickey was happy to hear it. It was better than the silence. Anything was better than the silence. 

He sighed, and set the plate down. “I know you’re not, but you have to eat. Am I gonna have to feed you like the baby? Because I will. I’ll get you a fucking…I don’t know, a fucking bottle or some shit.” Again, trying to keep it light. Trying to smile. Masking everything with jokes. 

He barely heard the shower stop, didn’t realize until Mandy was slowly creeping out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her. Her feet creaked on the floor boards and Ian flinched under the covers. “Who’s that?” he said hoarsely, his fists balling around the sheets. 

“Sorry,” Mandy said softly. 

“It’s just Mandy,” Mickey said, gently rubbing a hand over Ian’s back. 

“Don’t…” Ian said and Mickey quickly pulled his hand away. “No,” Ian groaned. “Don’t…don’t.” 

“What is it, Ian?” Mickey asked, getting slightly frustrated, but mostly just wanting Ian to talk to him. “Don’t what?” He bit his lip and tried not to remember the last time those words had been said in this room. 

Ian was quiet for a while, nothing but his heavy breaths, in and out, in and out. And then finally he stirred again, turning over and peaking out slightly from inside the blankets. “Don’t let them take me away,” he breathed, his voice so small and quiet. 

Mickey frowned, his brows knitting together. “Who?” he asked, laying down beside Ian, pressing their foreheads together, glad to see his eyes again, even if it pained him to see how sad and empty they looked. 

“Fi-Fiona. M-my family,” he mumbled, his voice trembling as tears began to slip from his eyes. “I don’t— I don’t want to be— I’m not—I’m not M-Monica.” And then he fell against Mickey’s shoulder, his body shaking with sobs as he loosened his grip on the covers and instead replaced it with the fabric of Mickey’s shirt. 

“Hey, hey,” Mickey said, rubbing a soothing hand over Ian’s back. “No one’s going to take you away. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. It’s going to be okay.” 

“I promise—I p-promise,” Ian shuddered, his voice cracking with each sob. “I promise I won’t be like her. I won’t. I won’t. I won’t…I…” 

“I know. It’s okay, shh. Shh.” He pressed a soft kiss to the top of Ian’s head and continued to rub circles into his skin. “It’s alright, Ian. I’m right here. It’s alright.” 

***  
He eventually got Ian to eat half of the toast and drink most of the water after he had calmed down from crying. But it didn’t last long, and soon he was back under the covers facing the wall. It was something though. Mickey was starting to appreciate the littlest things. Half a piece of toast was a monumental accomplishment. And Mickey was proud of Ian. And he told him so. Little words of encouragement. Good job, Ian. Just a little bit more, there you go. Great. You did so well. I’m so proud of you. 

It was nearly two in the afternoon when Fiona arrived. Ian was fast asleep and Mickey was in the kitchen putting together a bottle for the baby because he had to keep things civil with Svetlana and if that meant giving the kid a bottle every now and then, he could do that. As long as she was off his back and he had one less thing to worry about, he’d do his share. 

“It’s open!” Mickey called, hoping he didn’t wake Ian or the baby. Fiona came walking through the living room a moment later, pulling off her hat and scarf. 

“How’s he doing? He up?” 

“Sleeping,” Mickey said, shaking the bottle like Mandy showed him. 

“Need help with that?” Fiona said nodding towards the bottle. 

Mickey rolled his eyes. “I can make a fucking bottle.” 

Fiona held up her hands, “Alright, just asking. Kinda got some experience in the whole taking care of babies area.” 

Mickey just glared at her. 

“Mickey, this is tough on all of us, okay? If Ian’s asleep, do you need help with the baby?” Her face was sincere and Mickey felt bad for giving her so much shit. He knew this was hard on her too. It’s just. Ian meant so much to him. And he wanted to be the one to fix him. He’d always been able to fix shit in the end. Being this helpless was something new to him. 

“I’ve got time before my shift starts and there’s not much to do at home. Vee’s down at the bar with Kev and the twins. Carl and Debbie are in school. Lip’s got Liam for the afternoon. I’ve got nothing else going on. I can do laundry. I can clean up around here. I can watch the baby if you want to shower or something. I can make some lunch. Have you eaten yet?” 

Mickey shrugged. “Just some toast. Half. Ian ate the other half.” 

Fiona’s eyes widened. “Ian ate?” 

“Yeah. It wasn’t much but. Better than nothing. Got him to drink some water too.” 

“Shit that’s great!” Fiona beamed. 

Mickey blinked and caught his bottom lip between his fingers. “Is it? Like is it really? Does this mean…is he getting better?” 

Fiona sighed, putting her hands on her hips and nodding. “Maybe. It’s hard to know for sure. But it’s progress. Hell, sometimes we’d have drag Monica out of bed and force her to eat. The fact that he’s at least doing it on his own is a good sign. All we can do is take things day by day, Mickey. See what happens.” 

Mickey nodded, picking up the baby bottle off the counter just as Yev’s cries began to sound through the house. 

“I got it,” Fiona said, gesturing for Mickey to give her the bottle. “Go take a shower, breath. Relax for just a minute. I know this is tough. I’ve been there, and I can’t even imagine what it’s like when it’s…It’s just different when it’s your mom or your brother.” 

Mickey knew what she was trying to say. When it’s the person you’re in love with. He appreciated her for not saying it out loud though. He knew he loved Ian, God how could he not. After everything they’d been through, he knew he loved him. He knew it was love. But it was still hard to say it out loud. And he didn’t want to say it to anyone else before he told Ian first. It was why he refused to answer Svetlana. It was why he was glad Fiona didn’t say it now. He wanted Ian to know before anyone else. He hoped Ian already knew. But if he didn’t, he wanted him to be the first to hear it. 

“Go on,” Fiona said, bringing him back from his thoughts and shooing him out of the kitchen. 

Mickey turned to leave, padding down the hall before stopping outside his door to turn back to Fiona. “Hey, uh, thanks. For,” he nodded towards the baby in her arms. 

She waved her hand and smiled, “It’s no problem. Thanks for taking care of me brother,” she added. 

“Yeah…of course,” Mickey nodded, before pushing the door open and slipping inside. He paused for a moment, staring at Ian’s back, before turning towards the bathroom. He let the door fall shut and then he glanced into the cracked mirror, his reflection broken into pieces. He couldn’t help but think of Ian. Wondered if this is how Ian saw himself, broken up like pieces of glass. Mickey sighed and started up the shower and then he was fishing through the magazines, finding that damn picture and putting it up next to the broken glass. Ian’s smile seemed so foreign. It had only been three days, but it felt like a lifetime ago. 

He stroked the picture, his thumb tracing over his smile, before shoving it back into the magazine and climbing into the shower. He was going to take care of Ian. He was going to make sure he smiled again. He’d do anything for him. However long it took, however many days, weeks, months, even if it took fucking years, he’d do it. He’d be there. Day by day, he could do this. For Ian he’d do everything and anything, even the impossible.


End file.
